


Frontiers Unconquered

by DaharMaster



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bajor, Gen, Occupation of Bajor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaharMaster/pseuds/DaharMaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the sixteenth year of the Occupation of Bajor. Already millions have died. Yet deep in the Janitza Mountains of Hedrikspool Province dwell a people utterly unknown to the rest of Bajor save for a few: the Ára-Itânì. They still live in the Old Ways, from a time before the D'jarras and are quite different from their fellow Bajorans. Up until this point they have remained unknown to and unmolested by the Cardassians, but that is about to change. Yet even at the outset, none could have predicted how their fight for survival would bring four very different individuals together, and set a young girl on her path to becoming Kai.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frontiers Unconquered

_"Avar Amin, arising in the West,_  
_Mystical moon, magnificent and splendorous,_

_Waning whiteness, what mysteries dwell there,_

_Across it arcs, a light from Heaven's stair,"_

_\- Lay of the Moonchild_

 

* * *

 

Oran Bende crept through the lush undergrowth like a hara cat, silent, invisible, deadly. Could he be seen, his dark skin would have contrasted sharply with his mottled beige-orange sleeveless tunic, but he was just a shadow among countless others on the valley floor. It had been years since he had come this way, but he still remembered all the hidden signs that marked the route. A jagged scar on a tree branch, two rocks balanced against each other, he could read them all like a script and they told him all he needed to know. It felt good.

Having spent several years among the _Ná-Râe_ of the villages and cities, he had worried he might have lost his touch, but he was still _Ára-Itânì_ it seemed. The _Ná-Râe_ still used the term for his people, at least those that knew of them, but they had long since forgotten its meaning.

People of the Dark Lands.

Beneath the vast forest canopy, deep in the shadows, the vulcanized earth black and red, he knew precisely what it meant. The _Ná-Râe_ called this place the Janitza Mountains, but to Bende they were _his_ mountains. He had been born, raised, and blooded there, and within the mouth of the _Azhót Êrrar_ , the Fire Peaks, his soul would reside upon his death. He knew that he would not be welcomed home gladly. Ever dwindling in number, the _Ára-Itânì_ were not fond of those among them who abandoned their ways for those of the _Na-Rae_ , but he had to warn his people. The _Ehmêt-Ut_ , the Great Outsiders, were coming.

Then, without warning, something swept Bende off his feet and he found himself flat on his back with a jagged sickle-like blade at his throat.

_"Sâhthe síol íhvat?"_ a voice demanded in a hissed whisper, speaking in _Verrê-Ùil_ , the Old Tongue. Bende recognized the voice immediately and didn’t dare move.

 

* * *

 

The two combatants were completely naked save for their breechcloths. Six paces apart, they faced each other, both still as statues, their faces masks of stoicism. Despite appearances, however, Zima Tor-Ej was furious. One of her very own warriors, and not even the best, had issued a challenge for her position of hetman of the tribe. The temerity of the upstart enraged her, but it was not the flaming hot wild rage of a savage, it was the icy and deadly wrath of a supreme slayer of men.

Suddenly, with a bark, the man lunged forward and came at her, the two obsidian-headed hand axes he wielded a maelstrom of violence. Two blows came at her at once, one from the side and one from above. In one lightning fast motion, she planted the butt end of her elemium glaive firmly on the ground and held it vertical to block the incoming sideswipe while her other hand came up and caught the wrist of the arm arcing towards her from above.

The man bellowed and tore his wrist from Tor's grasp, then whirled about and hooked a bare foot behind the back of her knee, sending her sprawling. She had taught him that particular move, however, and was prepared for it, rolling as she fell and coming up with her long-bladed polearm at the ready. Holding the weapon in both hands, she brought the butt end down towards his face, though he easily parried the attack.

That proved to be a mistake. In reality, the attack was more a feint than a true strike, and with his arm still raised to block it, she swept the curved serrated blade of her glaive upwards in an elegant arc that cut deep into his armpit, severing muscles and tendons as she swiftly withdrew the jagged edge.

The warrior howled in agony and his right arm immediately fell limp, the hand axe dropping from his hand and the obsidian head partially shattering on the ground. It was then that he did the unexpected. Instead of falling back, he leaped forward and used his left arm to perform a barbaric overhand chop. Tor caught the wood handle of his hand axe with the shaft of her glaive, but the razor sharp edge of volcanic glass rotated over the shaft and drew a line of crimson along the curvature of her upper left breast, just over her heart.

Unlike the man, she only gritted her teeth in pain and made no sound. With precise and well practiced movements she knocked his hand axe aside and drove the butt of her glaive into his diaphragm. Even as he bent forward, she spun on a heel, aiming the long blade low and severed his right hamstring, bringing him to his knees. Then in a singular fluid movement, even as blood trickled down her breast, she brought the blade to bear and pressed it against the upstart's throat.

"And let this be a lesson to any who would oppose me," she cried, "Strength through unity!" With those final words, she slit the man's throat. By the time his body collapsed, lifeless, on the ground, she was already walking away.

 

* * *

 

It was now or never.

"Like I said," Lieutenant Schaffer was saying, "It's just a simple away mission, Ensign, we'll only be gone a few days. There's really no need to bring all that-"

The human didn't get an opportunity to finish. He had finally turned his back on Lenaris Jass. The phaser blast, set to stun, hit him square between the shoulder blades and he crumpled to the floor without so much as a groan or grunt. Hurriedly, Jass pulled the communicator badge from Schaffer's uniform, pulled the Ferengi voice modulator from her duffel, and waited for the inevitable. It was not long in coming.

"Akira to Schaffer, we just detected phaser fire near shuttle bay three, is everything alright down there?" came Captain Akira's voice over Schaffer's comm. badge, her tone relatively unworried. Jass activated the voice modulator and tapped the comm. badge.

"Everything's fine, ma'am, sorry," she said in Schaffer's voice, "Ensign Lenaris was checking her phaser and accidentally stunned a bulkhead, heh-heh."

"Alright, as long as there are no injuries," the Captain replied, "Just remember to check in every six hours over subspace once you start your survey."

"Yes ma'am," Jass replied, then quickly boarded the shuttle.

The rest went off without a hitch. Jass undocked the shuttle from the USS _Altani_ and began heading towards the M-Class planet their sensors had discovered two days prior. It wouldn't be long before she was out of sensor range of the _Altani_ and could set a course for Bajor, but she was impatient. She had been born on Bajor after all, somewhere in Rakantha Province, in the Southern Hemisphere of Bajor, but more than that she did not know.

She had been six when the Occupation began and her family had fled to Valo II like many other Bajorans. The conditions there had been hellish. Her only escape route had been Starfleet, though in truth she despised them and their "Prime Directive" which had kept them from saving Bajor. Now, finally, she could return and fight for her people's freedom. Her memories of Bajor were few and fleeting, but she knew deep down inside that the Prophets wanted her to do this thing.

They would follow her ion trail, she knew, but she hadn't joined Starfleet Academy for nothing. She knew how to hide a warp signature. And she knew where the Badlands were. Already she was engaging the warp engines and setting a course. This was it. This was how it would begin.


End file.
